


From the flash of a gun

by delilahdots



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky-centric, Eventual Romance, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delilahdots/pseuds/delilahdots
Summary: Bucky remembers who he is.Between Winter Soldier and Civil War, this is how he remembers.  Flashbacks to pre-war will feature.





	1. One

When he first takes off, he doesn't think much. It sounds ridiculous but he can't remember who the soldier is, or who Bucky is, which means he doesn't know who he is. He doesn't feel like either. Captain Rogers had refused to fight him. He isn't sure who Captain Rogers is either, not one hundred per cent sure anyway, but something inside his brain, covered for years, told him he can't kill him or can't let him die. He had vague recollections when the man on the bridge first called him Bucky. Enough so that he'd hesitated and compromised the mission. And when Captain Rogers had said "till the end of the line", he felt like he'd heard that before too. He can't place when or where, it's swarming around in his brain, all grey and blurry and buzzing.

 **Till the end of the line**. And he thinks about Captain Rogers. The name Bucky made him hesitate on the bridge. He'd questioned it and been punished for it. Then on the helicarrier, Captain Rogers had said James Buchanan Barnes.....you're my friend....I'm not gonna fight you... All these words pulling at the soldiers brain; fuzzy, out of focus, pain, like a tension headache and he'd began punching the Captain, hoping that he'd shut up. Stop talking and that would in turn, stop the pain in his head.

 **You're my mission** , he'd repeated. Half to remind himself and the other half because he knows he recognises the Captain...somehow... He can remember the bad things that happen when he admits he knows the Captain. He thinks of the chair and the mouth bite and he wants the pain to stop. He punches the Captain again. The Captain says I'm with you till the end of the line and the soldier pauses. In that spilt second, everything stops. He realises can't land the final blow, he...just..can't bring himself to do it.

Somewhere in his memories he can hear a voice saying the same nine words and before he can respond, the ground breaks and takes Captain Rogers with it.

He figures if Captain Rogers can break through years of programming with nine words, maybe he does know him. Maybe he was someone he cared about a long time ago. So he hauls him out of the water, checks on his breathing and leaves him there. He doesn't want to confront him. Or face the man with the jet pack wings or the red headed woman. They'll be looking for Captain Rogers. He takes one last glance over his shoulder and takes off.

He runs over and over the images in his mind but it seems to be useless. Still unfocused and foggy. He takes a shirt and a jacket from a back yard, of course checking there is no one home. There are signs to this. Invisible to the average person, but he can easily scope out the perimeter with just a cautionary glance. Once the coast is clear, he also opens the garden shed, and helps himself to a pair of gloves to cover the metal arm and a hat. He wonders, as he pulls them on in the alleyway, if James Buchanan Barnes was a good man. Was he a "hero" like the Captain in blue, white and red?

He is, for the moment, free from Hydra handlers. As he walks down the sidewalk, he learns from a billboard that there is an exhibit on Captain America at the Smithsonian and toys with the idea of going. He figures it is a good place to start learning about Bucky. Himself. If he is Bucky, maybe, it'll help him remember.

****

The first time he goes he wears the cap over his growing hair and a hooded sweatshirt over the top as well. He's careful to keep the gloves on even when it's warm, it keeps the arm discreet. He enters the museum and moves quickly to Captain America section. He stares into the eyes of the before shots. A skinny kid, short, with a range of health problems, and the after shots. 6'2" of pure muscle. Quite a shocking difference. One that would have to be seen to be believed. Those eyes however are exactly the same. Vibrant, blue, and deep.

The museum tells his story. How Steve Rogers started, his battles in the war, his sacrifice in going down with the plane to save his country, frozen until years later. Living legend and symbol of courage, the exhibit calls him. As he reads about Captain Rogers ambitious mission to rescue the 107th, prisoners of war in a enemy base, he finds himself impressed. The mission was to rescue Bucky's unit.

**"I thought you were dead"**

A voice swam in his head. He jumps, startled. For a second, he thinks someone, a handler, or even the captain has found him. He scans the area. No one has come for him. He turns back to the exhibit, cautiously. The voice sounds oddly like Captain Rogers. He turns his attention back to the exhibit when he hears it again.

**"I thought you were smaller"**

A voice inside his own head spoke again. A different voice. A voice he felt was, or would have been his own, if he were to speak. He hasn't spoken in three days. He coughs to clear the dryness he'd only just became aware of. The words are familiar. He repeats them in his head over as he looks at the exhibit. They have clothes worn by Rogers and his Howling Commandos. There's a picture of a dark haired man, captioned as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, next to the picture of Rogers and an outfit. A navy blue jacket, clearly a replica of what Barnes would have worn on missions. He wishes he could touch it to see what it feels like on his skin but it's on a podium and an elderly security guard is keeping a close watch on the costumes. Captain Rogers, mannequin is unclothed with a small sign reading "Due to unforeseen circumstances, Captain Americas uniform is currently unavailable for viewing" He raises his eyebrows and thinks of the Captain on the helicarrier.

He turns to the exhibit on Sergeant Barnes. There's a video of a dark haired man, laughing along with Captain Rogers. Bucky. He stares trying to lip read what the sergeant is saying. He can't quite make it out. He mouths the words, "my best friend" mere seconds before the looped video of Barnes does and he freezes, before the voice in his head sounds again. "Just Go, get out of here," The Captain at the back of his mind again. His hand is instantly drawn to his temple and he rubs. He remembers a building, a railing, a burning fire below, and a man with a entirely red face, sunken cheekbones and eye sockets and a maniacal grin, laughing loudly. He sighs. That can't be right. Can it? He remembers a bar. The Captain. A woman in a scarlet dress. He can't quite place her name. Then A face, one of many, leaning over him, a train, ice. cold. So cold. He rubs his arms and instinctively pulls his coat around him, even though he isn't actually remotely cold here in the museum. 

How long between the train and the faces standing over him? He rubs harder at his forehead. He sees the train carriages, weapons being fired at him, a shield like the Captains. The weapons he sees in his mind, the weapons the faces on the train had, were advanced. They don't match the weapons talked about during the war Sergeant Barnes fought in. Maybe he's been out of cryo too long. He remembers his handlers talking about that before.

Red faces and hi-tech weapons wouldn't have existed in the Second World War...couldn't be real. They belonged in dreams, or possibly nightmares. He tries to dismiss the thoughts.

"No! Not without you!" His own voice? To be sure, he repeats it to himself. Not too loudly but enough so he can hear himself.

That was the moment. The moment the blurry memories start forming. Still blurry, still out of focus, still all jumbled and not quite in order but not....the faceless, shapeless murmurs they were before. In his head, he can now see the Captain taking steps back, running and jumping over the burning void. He sees hands on the railing and feels his own hands, both flesh and bone at this time, pulling the Captain back over. He breathes deeply and slowly as if fearful of scaring off the thoughts before they could form. How silly to think red faces and super powered weapons weren't real just because they were the stuff of nightmares.

On the way out from the museum, he finds a corner shop and pockets two, three, four notebooks and a pack of pens. The shopkeeper, a young man, barely bats an eyelid. He goes to a old abandoned room in an almost deserted block, using an alley and a fire escape ladder to get there and he writes. He fills up two pages, scratchy penmanship, frantically writing, almost as if he's scared he'll forget.

The man on the bridge was Steve. He used to be little and now he's big. People call him Captain America. He remembers a blonde woman, tending to him. His mother? She died before the war. Bucky was a soldier. In the war. He lost an arm. He remembers the snow beneath the train, he remembers the ice after the train. He was a Howling Commando. "The only one to give his life in service to his country." People thought he was dead. He isn't. Not quite. But being dead buys you some time. He writes as if they'll come wipe it away. But they aren't coming. Not yet. They have a wreck in the middle of Washington and their secrets to cover up. For now, he can hide in the shadows. He finds it easy to distract himself in the day time. He writes. Every chance he gets. The pages become muddled with memories from the years. The pages become dog eared as he folds them over. And certain memories, they become more real. On these days he calls himself Bucky. "My name is Bucky," he writes on the back pages and in the margins. And when he's written in all the margins he writes it on the cover. His handwriting is big, loopy and shaky. Some nights he lays awake and re-reads them, sometimes it's in the hope they'll seep into his subconscious and bring on more memories. Other times it's from fear of the bad dreams.

It only takes one. One bad dream, one night and he spends the rest of the next day and most of the day after trying to shake the screams out of his head. A man with light brown hair cornered, a woman with dark eyes and then bullets in their heads or his hand cracking their necks to unnatural angles. He stares at the high ceiling, kicks the drywall in the old room and then goes out into the night and walks for miles. On his bad days, he doesn't feel like anyone. Mostly Bucky remembers the war, and Steve. He feels a pull at his chest when he thinks of Steve. It's an emotion he doesnt recognise or if he can, he can't place it. Then again the Winter Soldier never had time for emotions. It was mission or in the cold. Bucky remembers Steve and writes about him. Sometimes he feels like he's writing fiction. A beautiful, shining blonde hero but The Winter Soldier had no time for fiction either and he's been the Solider for years.

The memories become more detailed and on another trip to the museum, he plucks up the courage to buy something from the Captains section of the gift shop after seeing the small sign "75% of proceeds from purchases made in the Captain America section of our gift shop, go towards helping wounded veterans". Bucky can't quite buy the book about himself. Although, perhaps, he thinks he should. "James Buchanan Barnes - A Soldiers story"- By Professor Thomas Hawkins. He doesn't know who Thomas Hawkins is, and he's had enough of other people telling him his story so instead he buys the postcard of a smaller Steve Rogers in his army uniform. He smiles awkwardly at the teenage boy at he check out briefly worrying his resemblance to the sergeant will alarm the cashier. The cashier doesn't look up and just scans it, hands it over and wishes him a nice day. When Bucky arrives back to his makeshift home in a rundown Washington block, he slots the postcard in next to his most recent memory.

****

_Bucky was mid conversation with a neighbour as he waited for Steve. He'd been relaying. None to the other man when a older woman with red painted lips approached him, a frantic look on her face. Bucky immediately recognised her as the wife of the grocer. She'd always been a kindly woman, often slipping an extra apple or so into his bag. "James!" The use of his full name made his entire posture tighten. He turned to face the woman. She had a vice like grip on his arm. "It's Steven again, fighting in some alley," she sounded exasperated. "Started a fight with Donnie Cook, I knew you'd be around. You boys are never far apart," Bucky took off almost immediately, glancing down side streets and alleyways._

_It took him only a couple of streets before he saw him. Steve had clearly made no impact on Donnie. Donnie wasn't a particularly tall or even strong guy. He was all noise. Steve on the other hand, was being held up by his coat, whilst Donnie threatened him. "Hey!" Bucky called out "Back off him,"_

_Three heads turned around. One of Steve, nose bloody and clothes dusty from where he'd been thrown on the ground , one of Donnie Cook, holding Steve up by his coat lapels and and one of Donnie's gormless brother Jesse, who was standing beside them. Presumably to keep watch but he'd obviously was doing a pretty bad job of it. "_

_Shut up, Barnes, ain't nothing to do with you,"_

_"It damn well is if I say it is," Bucky pulled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. "Put Rogers down or I'll come over there and make you"_

_Donnie let go of Steve's coat, dropping him to the ground, allowing the blonde boy to brush himself off. "You gonna fight me instead?" He approached Bucky fast and before he'd even really processed what he was doing, Bucky had swung his fist at Donnie, a huge crack sounding as his knuckles collided with the other boys cheekbone. Donnie staggered back, his brother caught him and shoved him towards Bucky._

_"Get 'im, Don, you can take him," Donnie moved forward again only for Bucky to land a second blow, this time on Donnie's jaw. Donnie was much taller than Steve, Bucky on the other hand was even taller and much more of an even match strength wise._

_"Aw, shit." He spat out blood. "Barnes you fucking freak,"_

_"Don't like being the smaller guy do you," Bucky readied his stance again "Get out of here or I'll break your fucking nose," The brothers stared at him and for a moment, he thought Donnie might take another crack at him._

_"Leave him Don, he's not worth shit," Jesse sneered. "Him and his sissy pal," Don snorted._

_Jesse let out a laugh "Don't need a woman to protect when you've got Rogers around, hell a woman would put up a better fight,"_

_They moved past Bucky, leaning in to push him with their shoulders as they did. Bucky resisted the urge to punch them._

_"You didn't need to do that Buck, I almost had him," Bucky smiled fondly at his smaller friend._

_"I know you did Steve," he handed Steve a tissue as they walked together. He slowed down his pace as they began to walk towards the attractions by Rockaway Beach. "So why are you fighting Donnie Cook anyway?"_

_"Dunno. I was walking to meet you and he just kept shouting after me, calling me all sorts, I'd had enough and took a swing at him,"_

_Bucky pinched the bridge of nose. "You gotta stop that Steve," Steve shrugged and attempted a response, the tissue muffling most of what he said. The two walked in silence for a few moments, Bucky noticed Steves glances fell on the couples along the stretch, guys and girls holding hands, sharing ice creams and laughing together. Steve's longing gaze drifted from the couples to Bucky who smiled reassuringly._

_Bucky felt a pull in his stomach and he wondered if it was jealousy...the need for Steve to look at him like that, or anger, because damn everyone of these people who didn't see Steve as he did. He resigned himself to it being both not so long go. Steve was funny, intelligent, kind and thoughtful. He was artistic and his eyes were the bluest of blue. He was more than a skinny kid with a smart mouth and a knack for getting in trouble. Anyone would be lucky to have him. He'd attempted from time to time to introduce Steve to girls because goddamn, the kid was terrible at it himself. Yet for some reason, they would more often than not seem to act like Steve was invisible instead talking to one of the strong, well built men from the docks. Occasionally they'd flirt with Bucky and sure he'd flash them a charming smile. He was a gentleman after all, he wasn't going to be rude, but he wasn't interested. Girls who looked at Steve like he wasn't even there weren't the kind of people Bucky wanted to know. They came as a pair. Rogers and Barnes. Till the end of the line._

_"Hows your nose,"_

_"It's fine," he muttered. The tissue was stained red but he'd stopped bleeding. "Hey, Take a look at this guy," Steve nodded towards the games stands . "Those things are rigged,"_

_Bucky rose an eyebrow and felt the corners of his mouth twitch up, as he watched the guy try yet again to secure a prize and scowl when the ball flew past its target. The guys friends laughed and the girl, presumably his date pouted. "You fancy a go," Bucky took a coin out of his pocket and rolled it over his fingers casually._

_"You know those things are rigged, Buck"_

_"Are not, bet I can win one,"_

_"It's a waste of money," Steve insisted._

_"Not if you win,"_

_Steve rolled his eyes. "And what exactly would you do with a stuffed bear?"_

_Bucky shrugged "Give it to Becca, or my mom, or I'll find you a date and you can give it to her," he winked "A gal would melt if you gave her one," Steve rolled his eyes again._

_"Fine. If you win. Hotdogs are on me. If not, you're buying them,"_

_Bucky put on a look of mock outrage "Is punching Donnie Cook not enough to earn me a hotdog. I thought I was your best friend," "Course you are. Not that there's much competition, you're my only friend Buck," Steve grinned and Bucky returned his smile. He was just grateful to see Steve smile again._

_He pulled Steve towards the games booths and took a position in front of a ring toss game handign the vendor his coins. Bucky readied his stance and threw the first ring, hooking it around the target. He threw the second, missing by a fraction._

_"Thought it was easy," Steve grinned at Bucky, laughing showing off his teeth. "Shut up," Bucky muttered and readied himself to throw again. The third hitting the target._

_Bucky turned and grinned back at Steve. "You were saying?"_

_He wiggled the stuffed bear at Steve. "you owe me a hotdog," Steve shook his head laughing and holds up his hands. "Okay okay, next time I'll know better than to underestimate your aim,"_

_The hotdog vendor greeted them with a smile and in exchange for Steve's change he handed them over two hotdogs and two sodas. The sodas acting as refreshment under the baking heat. Steve handed Bucky his hotdog and drink and drank his own quickly._

_"You alright Steve? Think we should eat these and then head for the train?" Bucky asked, only for Steve to raise an eyebrow. "Um, about that," he stuck his hands in his pockets to attempt to find more change. Nothing."I think I just blew the last of the money on a couple of hotdogs," he looked sheepishly at Bucky, who shook his head and laughed thorsing an arm around Steves shoulders._

_"Alright, now how do we get home." He paused "Safely." he looked at Steve then down side streets as they carried on their walk._

_Just down the road, he noticed a truck, driver leaning out of the window, talking to a passer by and he had an idea. "Shhh," he motioned to Steve as he approached the truck, checked quickly the man wasn't looking and opened the back, jumped on before hauling Steve up and on._

_"There we go," he pulled the doors shut. Steve tucked his knees up under his chin "Better hope it's going to Brooklyn or we're really screwed," his mouth twitched into a smile at the corners. "It's an adventure, Steve" Bucky winked back at him, before staring at the bear._

_"Here" he handed it to Steve, who looked slightly taken aback. "You sure Buck? Your sister would really love this," Bucky nodded "course I'm sure. I want you to have it. I wouldn't have it any other way," he paused before grinning "consider it a reminder, never to underestimate my aim," And in the dim light, he could have sworn he saw Steve blush._


	2. Two

Every paper he sees has mentions of SHIELD, of HYDRA. He sees the name Winter Soldier. There's a line "The Winter Soldier, HYDRA's rogue assassin, is yet to make a reappearance". Bucky shivers and hopes that people will assume the Soldier went down with the helicarrier, or that the Winter Soldier is dead or null and void now HYDRA have been exposed. He is somewhat glad of the soldiers mask now. There's no clear photos of the Soldier and any videos of Captain America and the Soldier fighting go down as quickly as they are put up. There are however clear photos of Sergeant Barnes. Bucky keeps his hair long and is careful to keep his hat on in public to avoid the chance of someone noticing the resemblance. He even occasionally wears some glasses he found on a cafe table. Keeping the arm covered up is the most important thing. He wears long sleeved t-shirts and sweatshirts and coats and keeps gloves on even when it's warm. People don't expect to see the Winter Soldier walking the streets. Even still, as he lies on a blanket in a room of the abandoned apartment block, he decides he can't stay in Washington much longer.

  
From Washington, Bucky makes his way to New York, by jumping on and off freight trains. When he sleeps he sees faces and hears voices; sometimes they are friendly, memories of a past life that feels alien, sometimes they are screams. When the nightmares come, they come in full force, knocking the wind out of him, making him feel like he's drowning in the darkness of his own mind with no escape.

_There's a man in a room, with a large open window, he's in the building opposite. The soldier looks through a sniper scope and shoots the man once, straight through the neck. It exits the mans body, and smashes the mirror behind him, and he is left gasping for breaths desperately, blood pouring from his mouth. By the time someone finds him, he will be dead. The soldier packs up the gun and leaves on a motorcycle through a backstreet. The man had enemies, people who believed him to be dangerous. There will be multiple suspects and HYDRA have their plans for who will be framed. Foolish to leave a window open, the reports will say._

Bucky wakes up and gasps for air, coughing and choking on his own breaths, looking around his surroundings. Relief that he is in an empty carriage heading down a track, only serving as a moments grace, letting him catch one, maybe two breaths, before he replays the man falling to the ground, the bullet cracking the air as they left his gun. The man desperately clawing at the wounds in his throat, staining his hands and the floor.

_There's a woman, he follows her unseen until she's in her room alone, taking off her jewellery, whilst her bath runs. He steps out from the shadows and for a moment she thinks he's hotel staff and asks why he's in her room. He stares at her. She repeats she didn't order room service and says he's mistaken and has to leave. Until he clasps his metal hand over her mouth, drags her in to the bathroom and drowns her and puts her body in the bathtub to make it look like an accident. To the people who find her, she'll have simply fallen asleep in the bath_

Bucky wakes this time to be sweating through his t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt, he pulls the carriage door across, he's alone, save for cargo. He pulls off the sweatshirt and sits with his back pressed against the cool carriage wall, and breathes heavy as he thinks about her kicking and thrashing, as he holds her under. How she'd gone from mild outrage at "room service" letting themselves in, to sheer horror, pleading for her life, when he'd lifted her up easily, taken her to the bath and submerged her head under. He remembers her going still and motionless and how he'd kept her under just a moment longer, before placing her in the bath, taking extra care to make it look like an accident as his commander had ordered.

_There's a younger man this time. A engineer with access to nuclear coding and according to his handler the brains behind a revolutionary new formula that could, if put to practice, be lethal to HYDRAs idea for a "better world" . They'd gotten wind of this through SHIELD, by this time they are buried deep in SHIELD. The man is escaping in a SUV. The Soldier didn't plan for this but it is something he can handle. The tyres go out and the car spins over a small cliff verge. When he finds them in the snow, there's a woman with him, like he was told there would be, red hair and dressed in black protecting the engineer, covering his chest and head. It is the same woman who he fought with on the bridge. He quickly assesses the situation, pulls out his weapon and shoots him through, the stomach of the woman covering him. The mans body goes limp, clearly dead and the woman inhales sharply, clearly injured. She doesn't move although he can still her shallow breaths. He leaves her, she is compromised and not a threat in her injured state, and he walks off to his pick up point._

Bucky thrashes as he wakes and he retches in a corner of the compartment. He hasn't eaten properly in days. He coughs and splutters, as he attempts to clear the bile in his stomach. Bucky wonders if the woman remembered him. Then he curses himself. Of course she would. How can you forget a metal armed man putting a bullet through your abdomen...he wonders if she told Steve. He throws up again at the thought.

_He corners a black haired woman and uses a cheese wire to strangle her before tying her scarf around her neck and hanging her from the rafters. She knew too much to carry on living, as his handler had phrased it. So she needed to be put out of the picture. The woman also had a history of personal troubles. To the unseeing eye, it would look like she had used suicide to escape her broken marriage and turbulent relationship with her children. The soldier searches the house, finds the documents she had in her possession, hidden in a safe behind a painting of a child and parent on a swing, and pockets them, before turning on the gas, putting food on the cooker top and setting the house ablaze._

The journey on the way out of Washington only serve to give him more time to remember. Bucky keeps swallowing the rising feeling of nausea down in his throat as he writes. He hates himself as he writes. He feels what he senses is ashamed. He knows it happened but writing it down, makes it more real more cemented in his mind and on these nights Bucky wonders if he even wants to remember. Sometimes he wonders what the point of remembering is if all it does is replay his assassinations over and over. Sometimes he wonders if it's possible to wipe away HYDRAs mark on him like they wiped away his old life.

A crashed car. He clears out the boot. Blue vials designed to create more soldiers like him. He punches the man until he's dead then sticks him back in the car. He throttles the woman and then destroyed the nearby security camera and leaves. The mans name...Howard? Something about it rings in his mind.

The man had addressed him as Sergeant Barnes? However with HYDRA roots burnt in his brain, Bucky hadn't acknowledged it. And now he wishes he had. If he'd hesitated here, like he did in Washington, there'd perhaps been less death on his hands. Perhaps this man was an old friend? But if he was, why didn't this break his programming? Bucky clenches his metal fist.

Bucky wonders why it was Steve Rogers in particular, that broke through seventy something years of code words, wipes and cryo freezing. There had to be something, something more. Something different about Rogers. You're my friend. You've known me your whole life. On days when he doesn't wake screaming, cold and in the dark, Bucky re-reads about Steve in the hope he'll remember something else.

_It was a cold, dark evening and the rain had finally slowed to a mild downpour, still tapping on the roof. Steve had just finished running over a mission plan with the Commandos and the rest of the men had retreated to their tents for a extra couple of hours shut-eye before they set off, leaving just Steve, who was now packing his supplies up, ready for the morning, and Bucky who watched him._   
_Steve finished up and glanced over his shoulder, looking slightly surprised to see Bucky still there._   
_"You okay, Buck?"_   
_Bucky nodded. The experiments done by Zola were still playing at the back of his mind but he managed to smile._   
_"Course I am, I'm always okay,"_   
_Steve placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder and looked at him. Bucky could feel those eyes looking him over. Bucky, to the outside eye, looked no different. He was visibly shaken by it but Bucky couldn't tell himself if it was Zolas interrogation and torture or if it was just from being taken prisoner in the first place or if maybe he just wanted to end the war and go home. No tents, no weapons, just go home and be Rogers and Barnes again._   
_"Buck..."_   
_"I'm alright, Steve," Bucky sighed. "I promise,"_   
_There was still rain on his coat and Steve's hair had fallen slightly forward. Bucky actually kind of liked it when it wasn't perfect, it suited him. Almost as if on cue, Steve ran a hand through his hair._

_"Are you?" There was a friendly tone to Steve's voice but his face was flat and he could barely smile this time. "I found you and you...weren't...you just kept repeating your name, your serial...how long were you on that table?"_

_Bucky shrugged. "I don't know Steve. I. Don't. Know." He repeats. "I go to war, my unit gets taken in, we're made to work. Yeah. I started planning a escape, or an uprising because god," Bucky clenches his grip around the fabric of his coat sleeves. "It was so..." He stopped. He couldn't find the word for it. Frustrating? Demeaning? Scary? None of them seemed to fit. "They found out. They took me in, strapped me to this table, and made me repeat my name, rank and serial number again and again and again, they injected me with...I don't know and you know what, I don't fucking want to know what," Bucky bit his lip._

_"I can't remember much more. I can remember thinking I was dying. It was the worst pain I've ever felt. I'd pass out. They'd wheel me off, wake me up and start over. One time....it was particularly bad, they were asking me for information. Information I didn't have, they knew I didn't and I wouldn't have damn well given it if I did. They brought out this...stuff, attached it to me pumped vials and vials of it...it wasn't torture like pull your nails, break your fingers stuff. I'd rather they'd have broken my arms...Anyway, I passed...I passed out and then the next thing I remember is you and you looked so different and I thought I was hallucinating," Bucky raises his eyebrows._

_Upon hearing Bucky, Steve looked instantly angry and sad all at once and Bucky felt like he was looking at Steve from Brooklyn again. The skinny kid who wouldn't back down and who'd fight for anyone he felt needed it. Even if it meant he'd get an ass kicking. If only they could see him now..._

_"Buck. If I'd have known...if I'd had any idea, I came as soon as I could, I wish I'd been there sooner, Peg...Agent Carter mentioned the 107....as soon as I heard that, I was already planning some way of..." He trailed off_

_Bucky sighed. "You came for us though, Steve, if you hadn't. I'd probably be dead. All the boys would. "_

_Steve puts his arm around Bucky and shakes his head. "You're the strongest person I know, If anyone could survive that, it'd be you,"_

_And without another word, he pulled Bucky into a hug, his arms around him tight and Bucky’s head fitting over his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. Steve rubbed Bucky’s hair softly. Bucky felt a odd pang of humour. He was usually the one to hug Steve, usually when he was cold or unwell. He used to fit right under Bucky's arm and he'd be able to see over his head._

_"I can't get over how tall you are," Bucky muttered into Steve's neck. He smiled a little and had to fight every urge to press his lips to Steve's neck. "Makes me feel real short,"_

_"I guess now you have to look up to me," Steve laughed. A real genuine laugh for the first time all evening._

_Bucky smiles "I always looked up to you, Steve. Even when you were tiny," he pauses "you are the bravest guy I've ever met," As they separate, Bucky felt his eyes linger on Steve's lips. Still the same pouty, full lips. Better lips than half of the girls back home._

_Steve ducks his head and lets out a slightly shy laugh, like he used to back home, when shop owners or passers by had complimented his artwork as he drew outside._

_"Yeah you definitely don't need me to step in for you anymore, Captain America can hold his own," Bucky scratched his cheek, only half joking. He was tired, restless and there was a planted thought nagging, that Steve didn't need him holding him back now that he was Captain America. Bucky didn't resent Steve for becoming a soldier, a hero. If anything he was glad Steve wouldn't be knocked for six by something like a cold anymore. Back in Brooklyn, a cold would mean Steve bed ridden for weeks and Bucky taking on more and more work to pay for medicine and holding his breath that Steve wouldn't collapse._

_Steve reached out and gave Bucky's hand a squeeze. "There'll never be a time when Steve Rogers don't need Bucky Barnes,"_


	3. Three

When Bucky arrives in New York, he goes to Central Park and walks around for hours. Everything is different than when he was last here some seventy years ago. Although, when Bucky really thinks about it, he was probably here, in New York, on a mission. He remembers a gun shot in a crowd, a blood splattered pavement, and people screaming and has to stop on a bench. Bucky feels his heart race and can't control his breathing. A few passers by glance at him and it makes the ache in his chest worse. Are they looking because they know him? Or are they just looking because he's currently sitting with eyes watering, chest heaving, in a public place. The world spins on its axis and everything seems like it's too big and too loud and he tries to grip the bench with his hands to stop himself sliding off but his brain to hand communication isn't working and even with his metal hand, he takes three tries before he can hold on. He feels boiling hot even though it's freezing temperature-wise. He's in a hat, scarf, gloves, sweater and jeans and it all feels too much. He wants to submerge himself in warm water and stay there.

Bucky lies down on the bench and stares up, breathing in and out, for at least ten minutes until the world comes back into focus. He lies there some more. He almost falls asleep, but he knows this would be foolish. He gets up, and wanders for a few more hours, with no real direction. Bucky happens upon a residential area and walks until he finds a block of apartments in a side street

" **Closed for Renovation** "

Bucky knows can't stay here too long. He enters, finds an apartment and picks the lock.He immediately bolts the door over and scopes around the area. It's half furnished, there's a bed and a table, some chairs and boxes mostly with paint and tools in them. It's nearly all covered with dust sheets. He takes off his clothes, stuffing his backpack under the bed. He crawls under the thin dustsheet, on the bed and re reads his diary entry. There's a hastily sketched map of the base camp in the margins. It's not much (Steve was the artist) but it lets Bucky visualise more. The more he can do this, the more he can try remember more.

"There'll never be a time when Steve Rogers don't need Bucky Barnes,"

Bucky feels a lump in his throat and his vision blurs, he bites hard on his lip. He can't stop his eyes watering and slipping down his face. He feels his whole body shake and his bite slackens. He can feel the water from his eyes slipping down his face and the salt on his lips.

Except now. He doesn't need him now, Bucky thinks to himself. Even if Steve did need Bucky, he's a different one now.

He's not the man he was before the war; outgoing, full of life and soul. He's not the man he was when he was a prisoner of war, although the constant looking over his shoulder was familiar but the sense of dread over what had been done to him had been replaced by an overwhelming fear of what he had done to other people. He's not HYDRAs asset anymore. He's not a weapon or a gun which is something Bucky is grateful for at least. Maybe he's all of them at once. All the Bucky's fighting to be at the front of his mind. Bucky for the moment is just Bucky. No commando, no soldier. Just Bucky.

Bucky considers the places he can visit and dismisses them as quickly as the thoughts occur. His parents home; nope, they're dead. It'll be a strangers home now. His old school; highly unlikely to still be standing. Steve's old home; he most likely doesn't live there anymore and if he does, Bucky doesn't want to see anyone. He realises how little he has to go on and runs a hand through his hair. On one occasion, he goes to Brooklyn and he finds his feet carrying him in one particular direction. Bucky just lets himself walk, he knows where he's going deep down, working on pure muscle memory alone, he can tell he's headed towards the cemetery.

It doesn't take him long to locate it, his legs seems to know what it's looking for, even if his mind is currently a few paces behind. Bucky doesn't know whether or not he's grateful for this. He walks down the rows of graves.   
He finds himself in front of one for Sarah and Joseph Rogers. Bucky remembers a funeral in the middle of May. He remembers Steve, skinny and small, in a coat much too big for him, staring at his mothers coffin as it was lowered into the ground next to his fathers. He sees Steve in his minds eye, climbing the stairs as he follows behind. Steve breathes heavily and Bucky can't remember if it was his asthma or from the crying he'd done when he thought no one was looking.

" _Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own,"_

  
" _The thing is...you don't have to... I'm with you till the end of the line, pal"_

It was his words. His words that Steve had used on the helicarrier. Of course.

He stands in front of it until he loses all track of time. There's flowers. Dead but Bucky estimates they're only about two weeks old. He turns on his heel and walks on until he sees one for his grandparents first. His grandparents grave is moss covered and brick red, the words in the stone barely legible anymore.

Next to there's is a smaller, slate one, belonging to his mother and father.

" **George Martin Barnes  
1899-1972**

**And his wife**

**Winfred Catherine Barnes  
1899-1969.   
May they rest in peace"**

And next to it is another grave stone, newer. Black marble and the names etched in gold. It can only be a few years old.

**Rebecca Barnes-Proctor  
1920-2012**

**Mother, wife and grandmother.**

Mother. Becca had children out there. Children and grandchildren. Which meant Bucky in turn had nieces or nephews. Becca had always wanted kids. Her response to "what do you want to be when you're a grown up" had always been "a mother". For a moment, Bucky felt something akin to being relieved. Little Becca had gotten what she'd wanted in life. A family. He wondered if her kids knew about him. If they knew they were related to James Buchanan Barnes. They'd have to. Becca, or their parents surely would have... He wondered if the kids ever heard stories of their "war hero" uncle. He allows himself a small smile and wonders if it's a niece or nephew out there. Likely they were around his age due to his  years in cyrostatsis, Bucky for a second wondered if they knew about The Winter Soldier. They'd have to, at least by now. He suddenly felt a whole lot more uneasy.

And in writing underneath Becca's memorial, there is a message for himself

" **In Memory of James Buchanan Barnes: 1917-1944"**

Bucky can't quite fathom it. How can he have a burial spot or a grave. There was nothing to bury. An empty casket. An empty grave. There was no one left to mourn him except Steve. The other Howling Commandos are either dead or now living far away, in homes or retirement villages or with their families. Did they have a funeral? How long did they wait before pronouncing him dead? What's buried there, if he isn't.

A rustling makes his eyes drop to the ground, distracting him from the thoughts pulsing through his brain. There's some old flowers by his grave, wilted but possibly a few weeks old. Getting closer they're identical to the flowers left on Sarah and Joseph Rogers'. Bucky chokes on the air and touches them. The wilted, faded petals break off in his hand and he puts them into his pocket. He'd stick them in his journal later.

Clearly the visit to his grave had been when Steve still believed Bucky to be a dead man.

Bucky thinks about all the events, lives and deaths he's had a personal hand in telling and his head spins and he feels like the earth might cave from under him. The years on the graves spell out to him how long it's been since he's...just been himself. Albeit he's now a different himself.

He grips the marble hard with his metal hand to steady himself. It was a bad idea to come here. Suddenly aware of the force of his grip, he lets go. He can't damage Becca's, even if he'd gladly take his fist to his own farce of a burial spot.

As he exits the cemetery he wonders to himself if Steve experienced the same thing when he came out of the ice. Realising everyone you ever knew is dead. Steve has his new friends. The man with the jet pack wings and the woman who he recalls from Odessa, he'd shot her again in Washington. And Peggy. Peggy Carter the pretty Englishwoman in the red dress. Bucky learns about her from a newspaper discarded in a station. It tells him she's alive but in a nursing home not far from Washington. Shes a widower, 89 and has Alzheimer's. He wonders if Steve visits her.

He squats for four days in an empty building, before he catches a glimpse of a newspaper. It claims Steve Rogers and his friends are back at Avengers Tower in New York. Bucky suddenly feels like he's being watched, like they're too close for comfort. He feels like eight million eyes are on him. The buildings suddenly loom too large over him. New York is a big city. Bigger even now it's the 21st century, but he still half expects someone to burst into the room. He leaves in the dead of the fifth night. Looking here for more answers would only invite trouble.

He figures he can't stay in the United States. As he rides in another empty carriage. Bucky makes plans to get to Europe and lie low.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter. Small trigger warning for implied torture and HYDRA who are probably a warning on their own.

_Bucky could feel an immediate stabbing pain in his upper left arm, which caused him to shout out in pain. The wind was so loud it pulled his screams away and into the shadows. Looking down at his arm, he could tell immediately that it's broken badly. Possibly even irreparably so. From the elbow down, it stuck up at an angle he couldn't quite believe was possible and was partially trapped under rocks. Bucky attempted to move with his free hand, and tugged gently at the material by his elbow. The pain coarsed from the arm, up into this chest and through his whole body, like he'd been dipped in molten lava and he screamed out again. Letting go of it, he stared at his arm. The darkness was fast approaching, and he wondered if he'd die of hypothermia, of the wound or from infection first. This was not how he thought he would die. He had always known there was always a chance, when he was drafted that he wouldn't go home but he had never pictured dying alone in a ditch like an animal. Bucky hoped Steve was rounding up the Commandos now and they'd be looking for him. He shivered and hoped it wouldn't be long before his comrades found him. He told himself he'd be okay, they'd be looking for him right now. He felt his eyes flicker and he passed out onto the white plain._

_When Bucky woke up next, it was not to his band of soldiers on a rescue mission but to a sudden unimaginable pain from the arm. Through the snow and his blurry eyes, he saw a man in a thick coat and hat, kneeling over the arm...cutting through his skin with a small, serrated, whirring blade. His dirty coat was ripped from the elbow up and discarded so the man could saw through his skin. A small rag was tied above his elbow._

_"Stop," Bucky choked out through the hacking and slicing of his skin and muscle. "No," he attempted to move in vain. He tried to raise his voice again but only a dry hoarse scream echoed back.The man cutting through his arm didn't even turn to Bucky. Completely emotionless to the gaping, hollow sound coming from his throat. It was as if he hadn't even realised Bucky was there. Another man dressed in similar winter clothes came from behind the make-shift surgeon , took hold of Bucky's face, opened his mouth and stuffed a gauze in. The two men were conversing in a language he could barely concentrate on enough to translate._

_"Zola will be pleased," the other man muttered and Bucky felt is heart drop. Zola? These men were associates of Zola which meant they were highly likely to be HYDRA and in turn highly likely to have unsavoury intentions. Bucky wanted to ask pleased with what? Pleased with hacking an American soldiers arm? Pleased he was going to die? Pleased with his goons inflicting botched surgery? His mind raced through the different possibilities. Was he going to be taken back to Zola's lab for more experimental torture? Bucky, in that moment, wished he'd died from the fall._

_It carried on like this until the man butchering at his arm, hits the bone, the cracking sounds out loud into the grey dusk. Bucky screamed out loud, agonised and bit down so hard on his lip, blood filled his mouth, covering the gauze and trickling down his face. The man says something again to the other in a foreign language and Bucky felt the pain engulf him whole until he blacked out._

  
_He woke up strapped down to a table and for a moment thought maybe he'd hallucinated the whole thing "Welcome, Sergeant Barnes" a voice sounded from somewhere. The voice has a German accent. "I am pleased you are awake,"_

_"Where the hell am I," Bucky asked. His eyes fell to where his arm was. It now finished above his elbow and was completely bandaged. Obviously the butcher had finished his handiwork._

_"You survived the fall. Your strength, your metabolism...you are an improvement, Zola's procedure...it has already taken effect. It is pleasing to see such results even if it is on...the enemy" the voice was coming from a man Bucky suddenly realised was in the corner. His white coat allowed him to blend into the tiles and tables. His skin was paper thin, his eyes grey and he spoke through thin lips. "We will proceed nonetheless,"_

_Bucky felt his stomach knot. "Why am I here then, if you know it has worked, why are you keeping me here, why not just kill me," he stalled "You should have left me to die,"_

_"We want to you to help us," there was another man in the room and Bucky wondered if he'd been there all this time "we have great things planned,"_

_"Where the hell am I," Bucky asked "What do you want with me," he felt the tension build in his chest and he struggled to sit up against the restraints on the table. "You cut my fucking arm off and now you want me to help you?"_

_"The beginning of a new, beautiful era for HYDRA is coming, Sergeant" the first man turned around, vials in hand. Bucky immediately recognised it as the same serum as before, the same stuff they'd injected him with. It felt like such a long time ago he'd been there "We will rise, grow and rebuild, the Americans they may have their Captain but you are to be our...soldier,"_

_"Go to hell," Bucky spat the words out._

_The second man chuckled. "Ah Mr Barnes..but we have already begun the process, we were aware an ally of Captain America would not comply willingly, so we...will make you compliant,"_

_"Not gonna happen, buddy," Bucky swallowed his fear and looked shook his head. "You're wasting your time,"_

_Bucky thought of Steve. Of how brave and courageous Steve would be and summoned some strength from the place fear was usually born out of "Might as well kill me, I'm not talking and I ain't fighting for any HYDRA cause, you're wasting your time," Bucky pictured what Steve would do, he pictured for a moment that he was back with Steve in their apartment. He missed it. Sure there was damp on the wall and the shower creaked and Mrs Fitzpatrick downstairs used to complain about their footsteps but God he have given anything to be there. He have given anything for Steve to barge in, throw his shield at the doctor and drag Bucky out of there. He imagined it happening. Perhaps if he thought about it enough, it would happen._

_The man was smiling "You underestimate our methods Mr Barnes," he turned to the other man. "Put him on ice,"_

_Bucky felt an injection into his remaining arm and only a few seconds later, felt his muscles go lax and felt himself lull back as hands hauled him to his feet. He remembers the cryochamber. The cold rush of ice and the hands pushing him inside. He saw himself in the reflection before it engulfed him._

  
_He shot straight up on the table, eyes darting around the room. Something didn't feel right. He was completely secured, arms and legs clasped down to the table. He couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't quite right, the doctor was sitting in a chair patiently, inspecting his left side. Bucky stared straight down and his heart leapt into his mouth the second he saw his arm, Entirely silver, metal and whirring as the doctor worked on it. He made a move with the arm and it responded as if it was completely natural, as if it had always been there . The doctor jumped back, startled but a grin wide on his face. Bucky would see that smile in his nightmares for the next seventy years._

_How long has he been here? Long enough for them to fit him with a prosthesis. And a prosthesis that looks far more advanced than any machinery he's ever seen. He looked at his shoulder. And it's attached to him. Permanently judging by the angry, pink scars on his shoulder._

_"You are back, soldier" it's the same man as before, standing over him. Two handlers are either side of him, HYDRA badges stamped on their black uniforms. "You will follow me and comply with my instructions"_

_"What the fuck did you do to my arm," he jerked the arm again and heard a gun click in the corner._

_"Sit still, soldier" the voice behind the gun ordered._

_"It is upgraded. Your arm was damaged beyond repair, it had to be...replaced. We have been working on an arm for you whilst you slept,"_

_Bucky tore his eyes from it and stared straight ahead at the tiles on the wall. He felt bile In his throat and considered choking on it. It wouldn't be the most dignified way to go out but they'd have wasted their time and he wouldn't have to be here any more._

_"How...how long have I been..." He croaked out._

_"That is irrelevant. We are not here to catch up, You will follow my instructions," the doctor spoke._

_"Go. To. Hell." Bucky snarled out. The doctor waved his hand at the man with the gun, who unclasped the restraints and hauled him to his feet. Bucky stumbled a little only for the man on his right to violently haul him back up._

_"I'm not dragging you, stand!" The handler gripped him tightly nails digging in._

_"I told you, Soldier, comply or we will make you comply," He turned his eyes to the HYDRA men. "Take him to the room,"_

_The handler on his right shoved a cloth in his mouth, Bucky spat it out and attempted to shove the handler off and run, he was tackled to the ground by the bigger of the two who kicked him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and causing Bucky to wince in pain._  
_"Don't think I won't use the muscle relaxant, Soldier," the doctor threatened. Bucky can barely make out his name badge. It looked like Voight._  
_Bucky was hauled to his feet and dragged, stumbling down a long corridor by the HYDRA men, Voight leading just in front. They entered a darkened room. A chair surrounded by complex electrical equipment sat in the middle of the room, packed full of restrains. The handler shoved him down hard on the chair and clicking the restraints into place. The arms first. Bucky thought of Steve, summoned what he could and kicked the handler who was now attaching his leg restraints in the jaw. He staggered back, dazed for a moment._

_The handler took a breath in from his bleeding nose, finished attaching the last of the restraining bars and then stood in front of him, drew his arm back and landed a punch across Bucky's cheek._

_He could taste the blood in his mouth and wanted to spit it at him. The handler punched him again. Bucky would have head butted him if his head wasn't secured in place. He punched him a third time._

_"Stop," the doctor approached and the handler took a step back. "He will learn, We are going to begin the next part of the process," In his hands was a small rubber bite. "You will take this in your mouth." Bucky's seen one before and knows they're used during painful procedures to make sure the patient doesn't bite their teeth or through their own tongue._

_"No," Bucky spoke defiantly and then shut his mouth tight._

_"Soldier, I will turn this machine on whether or not you take the bite, you biting through your tongue is no issue for me it would delay the process, do I need to get one of my friends here to open your mouth forcibly?"_

_This is the man who cut his arm off without any anaesthetic and now he's concerned about Bucky's pain. Bucky wanted to cry at the absurdity of the whole thing. He shakes his head, lips clamped together._

_"Have it your way, soldier," Voigt spoke impatiently. He turned away and muttered to one of the handlers, approached almost gleefully, grabbed Bucky' jaw and forced his mouth open and shoved the bite in and held his jaw in place until the doctor had lowered the metal devices until they were clamped against Bucky's head. "You will comply Soldier,"_

_"Hail HYDRA," the handler lured just behind him. "Sweet dreams, sergeant," he grinned manically._

_Bucky's face stood defiant but inside he was screaming to himself and he could feel his chest having. I am not your soldier. I am my own person._

_Voight pressed a button and a second after the electricity sparked to life, Bucky felt a screaming white hot pain pulsate through his skull and through every nerve in his body. It was relentless, continuous burning with no release. The levels in pain did not change, or subside or show any sign of letting up. It was the same searing until the doctor switched the machine off and removed the bite from Bucky's mouth._

_"Name, rank and serial number,"_

_Bucky looked up at the doctor through the hot sweat he could feel running over his face. "Go fuck yourself," he managed to gasp the words out one at a time, chest heaving, breath heavy and white lights still burning in his eyes._

_"He's coming, you know," Bucky choked out, looked directly at the man."You're gunna..." Bucky stammered on a gasp of pain "you're gunna get your ass kicked,"_

_Voigt smirked "Who? Your friend? Your Captain?" He laughed "Your Steven Rogers? He is dead," he took a vial from his desk, this one was almost black and murky, different to Zola's he suspected._

_Voigt injected it straight into Bucky's right arm. "He will not come for you,he is dead," he checked Bucky's restraints, the tone of his voice was nonchalant as if he were talking about the weather "Soon you will be our weapon,"_

_"You're lying," Bucky said and he genuinely believed it. Steve wouldn't be dead. This was basic tactics. Scaremongering to frighten him, to make him give up all hope. Steve was probably on his way now. He tried to picture it, Steve on a rescue mission. All those times, back in Brooklyn when he saved Steve's formerly scrawny self a beating and yet when it came to war, Steve was the one to rescue Bucky._

_The doctor laughed. "We have had this conversation several times, when will you learn,"_

_Bucky felt the colour drain from his face. "You're lying," he repeated "I've not been here before,"_

_"What's your name, soldier," the doctor ignored him._

_"I've never been here before," Bucky was trying to recall if he had been in this room before. He couldn't._

_"Name," the doctor barked again._

_"James Buchanan Barnes," Bucky replied, voice barely above a mutter._

_"Where are you from"_

_"Brooklyn," he stated. It continued like this. The doctor would ask him questions and Bucky would keep his answers short. He was desperately trying to work out how long he'd been here but he just couldn't focus._

  
_The doctor looked frustrated and began talking fast in Russian to one of the handlers. Bucky couldn't focus on. They were speaking too quickly and too rapidly. The doctor nodded at one of the handlers who placed the bite back into his mouth and turned the machine on again. Almost instantly the pain began again. Somewhere in the background, behind the burning, he could hear words in Russian. Repeated to him. Those words and in the same order. It was all he could hear as he felt them attempt to burn away his brain._

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this a while back but had to delete and repost. Please kudos or comment if you enjoyed :)


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